


Honeymoon Swats

by ambidentrous



Category: GWA (r/gonewildaudio)
Genre: F/M, Honeymoon, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambidentrous/pseuds/ambidentrous
Summary: A new bride and groom make a discovery about their relationship.
Relationships: Bride / Groom
Kudos: 9





	Honeymoon Swats

**Author's Note:**

> In this script you read a man's running account of his wedding night with his new bride. It's told in second person, with the bride being the one hearing the story.

I pass the hotel and you point, turn around, watch it get smaller behind us.

"I didn't get a reservation there," I say, my gaze on the road. Your eyes get wide and it makes me feel full.

"I reserved a cabin in the redwoods. It's at the edge of a cliff over the ocean. You'll like it. They stocked the pantry. And the wine cellar. I like it. There are no neighbors."

I can still taste frosting from our wedding cake when I lick my lips. You have a piece of rice stuck in your hair over your ear. It takes effort for me to leave it there. I've had itchy fingers all day, cursing the press of people all around us. Waiting to be alone. Now we've been alone in the car for three hours. You dozed for a while and I watched your breasts move with the bumps in the road, adjusted myself, watched the road, looked over at you. I could have pulled over at any exit and taken you in the back of the car like that trip to San Francisco. 

Well, it would have been a trip to San Francisco if we hadn't gotten distracted in that Oakland parking lot, ended up fucking in the dark stacks of a Berkeley used book store. You read Gatsby out loud while I screwed you from behind until you couldn't any more. We spent the night in the Claremont hotel. 

We come out of a tunnel and I sneak a peek at your face. You're excited. You have a piece of rice in your hair. I grin.

"Rice chastity" I say and you tilt your head like you do. Like when you first asked to see my cock. It's a question, and it's not a question. You'll never admit that you don't know what I'm talking about. "You know," I say, "like leaving the plastic film over the screen of a new phone for a week. Makes you want to just _pop_ that cherry."

You roll your eyes, unsatisfied with the answer, but too proud to ask me what I mean. I reach for your hair and you turn and catch one of my fingers in your teeth. You suck it into your mouth and scowl at me. "Fuck, I love you" you say, your voice garbled by my finger. The car hits the buzz strip and I swerve back to the center of the lane. You laugh. We can't get to the cabin soon enough. I have too much of you in my blood. You're making me drunk. "I love you too, baby."

I roll to a stop over silencing pine needles. Redwoods dwarf me, you, the car, the cabin. The key is under the flower pot just like the email said. I throw you over my shoulder and you squeal and beat your fists against my back. You told me you didn't want to get carried over the threshold, but I feel primal. I want you to feel like you're mine. Your hips wiggle against my cheek and I swat your ass once, playfully. You go oddly quiet, oddly still, then I hear you hiss into my back, "Fffuck." 

I set you down. I know something has happened. You're looking at me strangely, then you pout. "I don't care if you're my husband I'm still closing the bathroom door." And you grab your bag and slam the door. 

The radio is playing softly. We're too far away to get a good signal, so songs come in and out like waves. The ocean beating at the base of the cliff is organic static, louder than the radio and it swells and falls. I remember your breathing in the car, how I didn't cover your breast with my hand. How I should have.

You come out of the bathroom, changed into a thin silk chemise, white. One I haven't seen before. "Do it again," you say, and I don't think I've ever seen you this naked.

And I'm not sure what you mean, exactly, the throwing you over my shoulder, or the reaching for your hair, or the swat, or something else. You look delicious and shy and if you noticed that grain of rice in the mirror, you didn't remove it. I wrap my arms around you, my hands sliding over your silk, my right hand falling, cupping your ass. I'm sure if I get this wrong, you'll push me off the cliff into the sea.

"This?" I say, and you nod into my chest.

I swat you, experimentally and you grab fistfulls of the back of my shirt. Your eyes glaze over. I know you're barely holding yourself together. I've seen you like this before. Just before you dropped Gatsby on the floor in Berkeley. Just before we got kicked out of that book store. You go up on your tiptoes, your body pressed into mine. I'm still wearing the clothes I left the reception in- sleeves rolled up and a bowtie hanging loosely around my neck. My hand is covering your left cheek, and you tremble.

"Spanking, huh?" I say, and I'm surprised at the wonder in my voice. We've never done this before.

"I didn't know," you say, "but ffuck. I really want it."

The sun is setting over the Pacific and it lights us up. You're glowing. I pick you up, carry you to the couch, sit with you over my lap. The edge of your white silk pulls up a little. You're not wearing panties. You're face down. I cover your ass with one hand, and with the other I pull the grain of rice from your hair. I put it in my mouth and crunch down on it. You jump.

When I look out at the sunset I see that you're looking at it too, your face reflected in the double glass doors. Your mouth open, your eyes watching me raise my hand, watching me hold it over you. Something is beginning between us right now, and we are wrapped in it. My hand comes down, a sharp smack, and you curl a little, your knees bend. 

"I hated this on my birthdays," you say, your voice low, gasping, smoldering. I raise my hand again and swat. You squeal, but you don't stop talking. "I hated the helplessness, how everyone laughed." I swat you again, fast, so you don't see it coming.

"I'm not laughing," I say. You take a shuddering breath and say "Fuck I love you."

Heat swells off of your body, I smell you sweetening under my hand. I can't see, but I'm sure you're soaking into my slacks. I feel you pressing your thighs together, squirming on my lap. I slide your chemise up and it bunches and flows around your waist. I stroke your flushed skin, watching you try to hold still, and fail.

"I'm yours now," I say, and swat you. I'm hard under you now. You can feel me crushed under your hip. Your hands flail for something to hold- a pillow, a curtain, anything. You find my forearm and you grip me, You sigh as I sink two fingers into your pussy and hold them there. You go molten.

Your knees bend, your feet float over the couch. I blow on your skin and lower my lips to your blushing cheeks. I graze my teeth over your smooth swell, run my cheek across the small of your back. You keen and whimper.

The moment slips sideways, slips primal. I flip you off of my lap, something wild rising in me. You bounce on the end of the couch and I tear my pants, getting out of them. You laugh and I grab your ankle, drag you up the couch, your silk gathering under your armpits. The smooth of your back is in front of me, your muscles flexing, swinging your hips, teasing me. Your pussy glistens in the sunset and I bury myself in you. I might be growling, maybe it's the ocean roaring. It doesn't make a difference. I swat you once and you squeeze around my cock, and I fuck you, pouring every ounce of desire I have into pounding you senseless.

I'm curled over you when you come. Your breaths trip into double time and I spank you once on each cheek, just for the fun of it, for the way you squeal and shudder. I come as the sun touches the cliff top, your hair in my fist.

We feed each other polished plums later. You lick juice off my chin and laugh. You ask me how I knew, and I circle your right nipple with the tip of my finger and I tell you a story you already know.


End file.
